


Lazy Sundays

by gambino



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: American AU, Angst, Band, Flirting, Fluff, Gaming, M/M, Sports, Studying, Swearing, Tutoring, Underage Smoking, Volleyball, slowburn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-22
Updated: 2016-10-29
Packaged: 2018-05-15 10:17:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5782288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gambino/pseuds/gambino
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Iwaizumi is trying to make a little extra cash on the side, and reluctantly signs on as tutor. He gains an infuriatingly (handsome) arrogant prick with a tendency towards shirtless-ness and sexual innuendo. Featuring Bokuto's and Kuroo's shitty band and a whole lot of teenage angst. Not much actual studying occurs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introducing Mr. Shirtless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> teenager in love ~ neon trees  
> 

“Ok, but, like, how much does it pay?” Iwaizumi asked, his gaze shifting from the aging motivational posters plastered against the wall and to his school counselor. He had spent the last ten minutes trying to convince Iwaizumi to sign on as a math tutor, animatedly expounding on the benefits of helping and its benefits on a resume. Iwaizumi didn’t need any more extracurriculars and didn’t feel like helping an unenthusiastic idiot out of the good of his heart. That might make him an asshole, but he was still a broke asshole.

Mr. Takeda smile faltered a little at the mention of pay, his face almost as tired as the room’s ugly wallpaper. Aoba Johsai was a nice school for sports, but the other rooms often didn’t get as much love.

“Well, the school can’t exactly pay you, if we could afford tutors we wouldn’t need to be asking students-”

 _Seemed better than walking the neighbour’s dog, too._ “I’m sorry for wasting your time, but mine isn’t free.” Iwaizumi apologized, pushing himself out of the stale pink chair and adjusting the backpack hanging off his right arm.

“-but I’m sure some of the students might be willing to pay from their pocket.” He finished, hopeful.

“Tell them I’m free then.” Iwaizumi replied, pushing the door open.

“Thank-“ His enthusiastic reply was cut short as the door closed behind him.

 

* * *

 

  
“They want you to be a tutor? Like a fucking nerd or something?” Kuroo laughed, his eyes focused on the screen while he mashed the buttons on his controller. Though his effort was admirable, Kenma was still kicking his ass without seemingly any effort.

“I guess. I said no, but if anyone wants to pay me I’d be willing. Maybe you should get one so you can pass a class like, once.” Iwaizumi retorted from his corner of the couch, surrounded by school work. His eyes were skimming through the words, but his mind was busy scribbling circles in the margins.

“Honestly, how dare you???? Kenma is going to take care of me???? And I’m going to make him beautiful lunches with hearts on the bag and raise our three beautiful kids????” Kuroo replied in mock offense, touching his hand to his heart. Game Over flashed across the screen in big red angry print.

“You’re disgusting.” Kenma replied, clicking the Restart button on the screen and continuing his attack on Kuroo’s base. “And terrible at this.”  
Kuroo stuck out his tongue playfully at him before turning his focus back to the screen. “One day you’ll admit your love for me!”

“When you can beat me in Battlefield. Which is never.” Kenma replied, and Iwaizumi supressed a laugh.

They were in Kuroo’s basement, their chosen after school hangout. Mostly because he was the only one with ample room for two and a half (Kenma) lanky teenagers and a well stocked after school snack pantry. It was mostly two shitty couches and ugly junk that didn’t belong anywhere else in the house, along with some teenage flare. Teenage flare mostly being dirty clothes, school books and old dishes, complemented by the occasional cigarette stub Kuroo was so bad at hiding. They had been congregating here since freshman year, turning it into their fortress. 

“I might tutor if I could pick up some hot chicks. Not that you’d be into that.” Kuroo leered, a smirk twisting his face while he stared at a scowling Iwaizumi.

“The only hot chicks you know exist in your search history.” Iwaizumi replied with a scoff, looking back down at his Calculus homework.  
“Anyway, I figure the tutoring might be some easy cash. I mean, I get to study and make some dough if they’re not desperate enough blow the teacher,” Iwaizumi sighed, erasing the sketches of Kuroo’s floppy hair from his margins and actually writing notes. “Also, resume.”

“Alright, we get it, Mr. Righteous. Pass me the doritos?” Kuroo replied with a grin as he bombed one of Kenma’s outposts. Kenma hardly took notice. Iwaizumi pushed the bag with a skid across the table, his phone screen lighting up beside him.

“Gotta go, supper. Bye.” Iwaizumi replied hurriedly, his fingers tapping a response as he gathered his work into his bag.

“Bye nerd.” Kuroo hollered from the couch, cursing as he lost another game.

“Goodnight Hajime.” Kenma murmured from his place on the couch, his colourfully socked foot playfully kicking Kuroo’s leg.  
  


* * *

 

“Thanks, Mom.” Iwaizumi said while wiping the remnants of supper (spaghetti) from his mouth. They were in the Iwaizumi’s kitchen- all grandma crochets and warm yellows. The chairs were chipped and the plates didn’t match but the kitschy cat figurines and country accents made Iwaizumi feel cozy and at peace. Also, her lasagna was legend.

“Thanks mom!” Akihiko, Iwazumi’s ten year old brother, echoed, his dish already by the sink. He raced up the stairs to his small room, presumably to play the 3DS Kenma had lent him. Still, Kenma was always a better influence than Kuroo.

Already making a move to collect the plates, his mother paused in thought as she drank the last of her water. Her eyes suddenly lit up, her finger pointing up as if to punctuate her sudden excitement.  
“I almost forgot! Mr. Takeda-the counselor- called? He said she’d found someone one for you to tutor,“ She paused for dramatic effect, wiggling her eyebrows at him, “who was willing to pay twenty an hour.” Picking up her plate, she stood, continuing. “I didn’t know you were going to start tutoring?”

Iwaizumi smiled, his eyes crinkling in sheepishness. “Yeah, well, Mr. Takeda was really into it, and its good for my resume.” _I also said I’d only do it if I got paid, but I don’t want you knowing that._

“Nonetheless, I’m proud. My muffin’s so smart!” She exclaimed in pride, smiling at her son as she expertly stacked plates on her arms. Blushing, Iwaizumi helped carry the dirty dishes to the kitchen, trying to emulate her ability to carry more dishes than digits and failing. As she filled the sink with rising bubbles, he found himself watching her face as he scraped dishes. She was looking more tired now, had more lines etched into her face. When her hands weren’t gesticulating wildly in their air, moving with an excitable energy as she regaled Iwaizumi and Akihiko with imaginative stories, there was a slump in her shoulders and a tiredness in here eyes. It made Iwaizumi's heart ache. It seemed maintaining both of her jobs was getting to be a lot harder than Iwaizumi had thought it would be. He wished she would let him just get a job and help out, but she insisted his school was of the upmost importance. He still tried to do odd jobs to get some extra grocery money for them, but watering the neighbour’s plants wasn’t going to pay the bills.

Noticing Iwaizumi’s presence as he set dishes beside her, rolling up his sleeves, she smiled, and though it didn’t entirely reach her eyes it was warm. “Go to bed, Hajime. I can’t have you tired tomorrow, you need to drive Akihiko early in the morning to his volleyball match.” She reminded him, nudging her with her dish-clothed shoulder. Before he could open his mouth in protest, she began again. “No buts. Go to bed.”

Closing his mouth into a flat line, he furrowed his brows in his characteristic manner. He reached out to give his mother a gentle squeeze and left. His feet made no sound against the outdated linoleum tile. Walking up the creaking wooden stairs, careful not to wake Akihiko, he thought about the tutoring money. It may not be much, but every little bit helped, right? Iwaizumi pondered, his socked feet quietly slipping into his room as he soundlessly shut the door.  
  


* * *

 

 _It’s too fucking early for this._ Iwaizumi grimaced, his ass cold from the steel bleachers in the air conditioned gym. His mouth pinched into a hard line and his brows were knitted together, obscuring his dark eyes and their accompanying purple bags. Akihiko was nearing the end of the fifth set, and so far his team was winning, as expected. He was not the best, but the team itself was great. Iwaizumi played it in middle school, much like Akihiko, but didn’t continue. He was never serious nor good enough to continue, not to mention it didn’t allow enough time to study. But, he enjoyed it, and watching Akihiko play was pretty fun. When he didn’t have to wake up at 6 for it, that is.  
As the crowd clapped and stood in celebration of the win, Iwaizumi dully remembered where he was and stood up to clap, rubbing his eyes. Akihiko was beaming, and Iwaizumi couldn’t help but smile just looking at him.

As Akihiko picked up his things and said goodbye to teammates, Iwaizumi absentmindedly threaded his keychain through his fingers, looking around. He recognized a couple of people from his class cheering, and some of the high school volleyball team was there helping and volunteering. Their familiar blue and white jackets were instantly recognizable from 10 miles away. That jacket made you a GOD. Not only did teacher’s give them a constant pass, they got all the girls. Kuroo hated them. Not to mention they were having a particularly good season, thanks to one of the backup setters being moved up to the first line. He was a monster. Not only was the school 110% sure they were going to nationals, 110% of the girls and probably some guys were in love with him.

A tug on his sleeve broke him from his reverie. It was Akihiko.  
“Dude, you did great.” Iwaizumi praised him, smiling.  
“I know. You ready to go?” Akihiko said playfully, sticking out his tongue. Iwaizumi laughed, jangling his car keys in reply.  
“Alright. You smell too bad to sit in the front though.” Iwaizumi grinned.  
“Mean!”

* * *

 

  
It was the next day, and it was beautiful weather for spring. The sky was clear and the birds could be heard chirping their way back into the sky. It was a pleasant breeziness, the perfect kind where you could get with only a light coat. Iwaizumi was driving and holding a slip of paper with a peppy greeting and shitty directions. It was from Mr. Takeda. He had finally emailed him the name and address of his tutoring protégé, and though he was quite frankly not looking forward to waking up early TWICE on one weekend. It was stressed he was only free on Sundays. Hungover partier? Athlete with demanding schedule? Antisocial weab who wanted to do this as little as possible? Well, he couldn’t know who he was because Takeda forgot to **write his fucking name.**

Iwaizumi exhaled heavily, focusing on the street he was on. It was nice. Like, really nice. Big-ass-yards-and-nice-ass-cars-nice. His normally cringe-inducing Saturn was bad enough, but now he just felt damn ashamed to be driving such an ugly vomit green contraption in such a prestigious part of suburbia. Whatever, who really needs working doors and dignity, right?

Sighing, he looked over the manicured lawns, white pillars and multi-floor mansions. This kid could be paying him way, way more than twenty an hour. Iwaizumi vaguely wondered his student had ever even worked before. _He’s probably going to be an absolute prick._ He thought to himself, turning onto the street this kid’s house was on. His head was already aching.

A couple houses up, and he saw it. It wasn’t like the other houses on the street- mostly modern, steel and glass pieces of art. It was just as glorious, if not more, however. It was red brick and vaulted roofs, with more windows than he could count and immaculate hedges- was that a fucking turret? Sinking deeper into his musty vinyl chair, he hoped no one saw him park his literal piece of shit into the cobblestone driveway.

 _This is absolutely worth it. You could be picking up the neighbours dog’s shit._ Iwaizumi thought to himself as he rolled down his window to open his car door from the outside. Ok, working doors may be necessary.

Grabbing his school books from his passenger seat, he climbed out onto driveway and, ignoring the strange looks from the gardener next door, locked his car and walked up to the doorway. He knocked once. He knocked twice. Iwaizumi waited a little while, and then knocked thrice. Jesus, does anybody live here? Standing before the mahogany door, he wondered if Takeda fucked up. It wouldn’t surprise him.

Huffing, he almost turned around, his eyebrows furrowed in irritation. Before he could move, though, the door was opened and he was welcomed by a sleepy brunette with floppy hair, tired eyes and no shirt on. Wow. Were 17 year olds allowed to look like they had been chipped from Channing Tatum’s stomach? How was he this tall? The pretty boy swayed, leaning against the almost too short doorframe. He was wearing nothing but drawstring pyjama pants that hung dangerously low, and Iwaizumi suddenly felt extremely self conscious over his own scrawny body made by an intensive regimen of video games and Mountain Dew. He swallowed the thickness in his throat, uncomfortable with a nearly naked god standing in front of him.

“Hmm? I asked who are you? Can you hear me?” Channing Tatum 2.0 asked again, his head ducking to look at Iwaizumi’s eyes, and Iwaizumi remembered who he was, why he was here, and he was straight, goddamnit? He’s seen dudes shirtless before? _Kuroo would kick your ass right now. Chill out._

Clearing his throat, he introduced himself. “I’m Hajime Iwaizumi, your tutor? I presume Mr. Takeda told you?”

“Oh yeah, my nerd. Come in.” the boy replied grumpily, his eyes still sleepy as he rubbed them awake. Iwaizumi’s eyebrow twitched in irritation, his mouth pressing into a flat line. While he thanked the gods the boy was tired enough to not notice Iwaizumi’s ~~goggling~~ hesitation, he was apparently still a prick.

“Um, you can leave your coat and shoes there. I’ll be in the kitchen, you can bring your stuff there?” He said groggily, already turning his back on Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi was left on the porch, open mouthed and confused. He kicked off his shoes, and then remembered he should put them neatly by the other ones as a matter of politeness. After all, _he_ had manners. Hanging his coat on the peg, he walked out of the boot room only for his jaw to drop more. The house was beautiful. More than beautiful, ridiculously and overbearingly dripping of wealth. It was definitely old fashioned, but in the leather chair and spiral staircase sense. Turning the corner, he was half expecting to see a butler.  
The sex god himself was leaning on the marble counter, eating a piece of buttered toast and watching the coffeemaker hiss. Hearing Iwaizumi’s steps, he turned around, his eyes significantly more bright and cheery than before. It seems he finally woke up.

“Want some coffee? I make it the best!” The brunette welcomed him animatedly, finishing his toast. Iwaizumi nodded a yes, setting his books on the counter. Settling into the island chair, he watching the brunette hum as he busied himself pouring him and Iwaizumi mugs of coffee in very chic white and black mugs, lacking any kind of character or coziness. A lot like this house.

“Are your, like, parents home or anything?” Iwaizumi asked, perhaps a little too nosily. He couldn’t imagine a morning without Akihiko raising a ruckus or the smell of his mom’s pancakes.

“They’re out. Do you want anything in your coffee?” The sex god asked, turning to Iwaizumi with mugs in hand, blinking owlishly.

“Black’s fine, thanks.” Iwaizumi replied, a little put off by his brisk reply.

“Oooh, how rugged.” Teenage Thor grinned, playfully sticking out his tongue. Giving Iwaizumi his mug, he began dumping spoonfuls of sugar into his drink. “Do you mind if I ask your name again? I’m sorry, I was a little sleepy this morning.” He said apologetically, eyes crinkling into his smile.

“N’problem. Hajime Iwaizumi. You?” Iwaizumi replied, looking at him over the rim off his mug as he took a sip. It was still hot, so he rolled it over his tongue thoughtfully before swallowing. Oh. It was good.

“Me? Tooru Oikawa, of course!” Mr. Shirtless (Oikawa?) exclaimed, all of his very white and immaculate teeth showing in a big grin.  
Iwaizumi blinked.

Oikawa’s smile let for just a second, his eyes scanning over Iwaizumi’s face looking for a hint of recognition.  
“Like, from the volleyball team? The setter and captain?” He asked again, his hands gesturing to his body as if he was some sort of deity that demanded worship. Iwaizumi realized this must be the pussy magnet of the team that every girl talked so dreamily about.

“I see. Which subjects did you take this semester? I need to know what you need to study.” Iwaizumi continued in his brisk manner, setting down his (damn good) coffee and pulling out his books. Oikawa’s smile faltered yet again, but he continued, leaning over the counter and getting very close to Iwaizumi’s face. Iwaizumi swallowed the dryness in his throat at the uncomfortable closeness, his eyebrows rising in confusion.

“Listen, Iwaizumi… I don’t think you get it.” Oikawa murmured in the close proximity, his finger tracing circles on the cold marble. “I’m not going to study. You’re here to do my work for me, so I can focus on training, yeah? You must’ve heard we’re going to nationals this year?” He smiled a slinky, sinister smile, and Iwaizumi felt his face go a little hot.

“Now, I thought they’d send a girl, and I even did the whole half naked thing, but they had to go and send a boy,” he continued, his lidded eyes scanning over Iwaizumi’s eyes, lips, chest. Iwaizumi had to remind his mind to calm down in the overbearing warmth of Oikawa. “But maybe not? I mean, I saw the way you looked at me this morning…” Oikawa drauled in a low voice, his head cocking to the side as his eyes came back up to Iwaizumi’s flushed face and wide eyes.

Iwaizumi’s face was still hot, but his anger cleared his mind. His eyebrows furrowed as the corners of his mouth pulled down, forming a scowl. “I was staring at you because you were nearly fucking naked, you gaudy prick.” He said hotly, gathering his books in his arms. “I don’t have time to waste on your arrogant rich boy bullshit. I’m not going to do your work for you, no matter how much of Daddy’s money you gave me.” Giving him one final glare, he stomped to the door, not taking the time to properly put on his shoes as he swung his coat over his arm.

“Use my tutor money to buy a fucking shirt!” Iwaizumi yelled, before he slammed the door, leaving a wide-eyed Oikawa and two cold cups of coffee.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for getting to the end! this is my first time writing a fic, so i really appreciate any critiques or help. i hope its not too ripe of cliches lmao but after reading considerable iwaoi fluff (and sin) i got rlly hype abt it.  
> anyway next chapter is aliens n cute glasses and im so excited !! ty ty for reading ! <3  
> p.s. srry for all the cursing, i just felt like it was an angsty teenager thing, but i'd really like to know if it makes it too vulgar or crude or kinda ruins the mood? like i said, I appreciate all opinions and help and I don't have a ton of writing experience so its all super appreciated :D


	2. In Which Little Studying Occurs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tonight (young hearts) ~ the colourist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i rlly want to note that all uses of gay are not used in a derogatory manner and i am hugely against its use in that form. when gay is used its literally meant as iwaizumi is in a huge fucking glass closet bc hes a little gay shit and kuroos a prick.

“Uggggghhhhhhh. And he was saying the weirdest super gay shit, all breathing in close to my ear, and he had like, these abs,” Iwaizumi waved his hands in the air, vaguely outlining a torso, “that you could fucking grate cheese on.” He continued, exasperated, his spikey-haired head resting on Kenma’s lap as he ranted. The small boy tapped on the screen of his phone, nodding in hushed agreement as he had been for the last ten minutes.

Iwaizumi rubbed his eyes, his anger having entirely drained him. Immediately after driving out of Sex God’s ridiculously nice Martha Stewart cobblestone driveway, he drove straight to Kuroo’s shitty basement to whine. Being surrounded by half drank mountain dew cans and mysteriously smelling couches was a comforting juxtaposition to the mahogany doors and marble countertops of Oikawa’s house.

“We get it, he’s a total prick, but stop being so fuckin’ whiney about it and help me with the Chem test I’m going to fail?” Kuroo groaned, head in his hands as his fingers scraped through his bedhead. As usual, he had left studying to the last possible minute, having spent the entire semester sleeping through his morning classes. It drove Iwaizumi absolutely fucking insane.

“Am not!” Iwaizumi exhaled hotly, turning his head to glare at the lanky boy laying on the floor. Kuroo looked anxious as he desperately flipped through Kenma’s notes, writing down only as much as he needed to pass. 

Kenma patted the angry boy’s head, squirming in his hoodie to relieve the pain of Iwaizumi’s heavy head moving on his very asleep thighs.  “A little.” He murmured quietly, pursing his small lips.

Kuroo looked up, temporarily tearing his cat-like eyes away from his schoolwork to train them on Iwazumi’s green ones.

“Are you sure you guys aren’t going to like, need the money though? Are you going to do something else?” Kuroo asked quietly, in a hushed moment of seriousness.

Iwaizumi squirmed under his gaze, his eyes avoiding Kuroo’s as he picked at the sleeve of his hoodie. “I’ll figure out something. I’m sure there’s other shit I could do.”

 Kuroo stared at him a little longer, in thought, before casting his eyes back to his notebook to resume freaking the fuck out.

“Alright. Then fuckin’ help me study,” Kuroo sighed, cracking open a new energy drink as he prepared his mind for the onslaught of Iwaizumi's lecturing of smart people shit.

“Fine. Gimme.” Iwaizumi groaned in defeat, rolling onto the floor and into the wildly scattered notes. 

 

* * *

 

Iwaizumi was waiting in the Aoba Johsai gym for Akihiko’s practise to finish. Still in his untucked school uniform, he was sitting in the steel bleachers, tapping through his phone as he waited for 5:00 to come. His pale fingers were deftly tapping his screen as he attempted to clear another level of a popular game Kenma had insisted on him getting. So far, he wanted to kill the little yellow fucking bird and he hadn’t seemed to get any better at it.

Looking up at Akihiko’s practise again, he saw they were winding down, thank god. Shutting his phone off, he leaned forward to grab his backpack. Rummaging through several layers of forgotten granola bar wrappers and graded papers he pulled out his keys with a distinct jangle. When Iwaizumi had straightened himself, he noticed someone was now standing in his immediate vicinity even though the mostly empty bleachers had plenty of room.

“Hello?” Iwaizumi asked, turning his head slightly-and then he froze.

**Mr. Shirtless.**

“Yo-ho!” Oikawa greeted, his irritatingly white teeth flashing in a friendly smile. He was wearing his full Aoba Johsai tracksuit, and it was incredibly well cleaned and wrinkle-free in contrast to Iwaizumi’s dishevelled and untucked button up and blazer.

He couldn’t run. “Piss off.” Iwaizumi muttered, his face twisting like he had drank something rancid in response to the over cheeriness of the boy next to him.

“You don’t look very happy to see me,” Oikawa grinned, sitting down awfully close beside the shorter boy, staring at the profile of his face as he searched for a hint of something. What Oikawa was staring at his face for, Iwaizumi didn’t seem to fucking know.

“You sure seemed happy to see me on Sunday morning.” Oikawa hummed as he moved forward, his voice dropping low in Iwaizumi’s ear.

_Oh my god choke on a fucking-_

Iwaizumi made a point of leaning away from him, his face deadpanned as he kept his eyes trained on Akihiko’s practise.

“What do you want? I thought we had agreed I’m not doing your shit for you. Find a new tutor.” Iwaizumi hissed, his eyebrows creased in annoyance and his jaw held tense. _Joke’s on you, asshole, you already made me question my sexuality._

Oikawa laughed, and slapped Iwaizumi on the back, startling him.

“Iwa-chan needs to brighten up!”  Oikawa chuckled, his eyes crinkling into his smile as he stared (down, due to his extra three inches of height) at Iwaizumi.

The angry boy paled in confusion, turned his head to look at Oikawa with a confused and mildly pissed expression. _…Iwa-chan? Is this guy honestly fucking with me?_  

“Listen, I don’t really want to work with you either,” Oikawa continued, more serious than before as he maintained eye contact with Iwaizumi. “But Takeda-san won’t allow me anyone else after he found out the last few did my work for me, and he’s been riding my ass about it so I can’t ask anyone else. He seems to think you won’t do the same and I really, really can’t fail my Chem exam coming up or else I’ll be off the team.” The tall brunette finished, leaning in towards Iwaizumi again with a suave little grin.

“So, like, I don’t have a fucking choice.” Oikawa continued, his voice low but distinctly hostile. Iwaizumi hated to admit it, but Oikawa was almost a little intimidating, even while fully clothed.

Iwaizumi leaned in towards Oikawa instead of scooting away, glaring into the other boy’s chocolate brown eyes in rebellion. “And what if I don’t want to?

Oikawa’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll triple your pay.”

Iwaizumi quickly did the math in his head. _That’s like, 60 an hour? What kind of rich filth???_  His expression softened, his jaw slacking in disbelief. Iwaizumi could think of a lot of things he’d do for that kind of money, and tutoring was by far the easiest and considerably less traumatic.

Oikawa’s eyebrow quirked in amusement, the corners of his mouth lifting in a self-satisfied smirk. “I take that as a yes?” Oikawa exclaimed, mood suddenly switched in his victory in winning over Iwaizumi.

Iwaizumi quickly pulled away from their sudden closeness, having been caught up in the testosterone and anger of the situation and giving in to exactly what had this prick wanted. He’d just sold himself out. Fuck. Frowning, he looked to the side in thought.

Oikawa pulled away, his smile still smug. “Alright, you’ll have to excuse me ‘cause I need to pick up my nephew from practise.” He said cheerfully, picking up his bags he had set down on the bleacher and tossing them over his shoulder with surprising fluidity and a devil-may-care attitude.

 “See you on Sunday, same time, same place!” Oikawa grinned, before turning and leaving, weaving his way down the bleachers. Iwaizumi took a moment to watch him go and watched as Oikawa broke into a huge smile as soon as he reached his waiting nephew. As Iwaizumi stood up, he supposed $60 an hour made the guy deserving of a second chance.

 

* * *

 

Iwaizumi was standing on Oikawa’s cobblestone porch, uncomfortably aware of the looks his car was receiving from passersby. He was like, 70% sure the gardener was laughing at it.

It was only last week he had stormed out of here telling Oikawa to go fuck himself, and it was only three days ago he sold his soul to shirtless Satan. Rich kids were damn good at getting what they wanted.

Scowling and clutching his books tighter, his hand reached out to knock a second time, but before his knuckles could rap against the mahogany wood, it was opened and- oh. Iwaizumi’s eyebrows perked in amusement and mild astonishment.

“Yo-ho!” Oikawa exclaimed cheerfully, his huge smile spreading across his tanned face. This time, he was **clothed** , in grey sweatpants and a baggy alien hoodie, with reading glasses perched atop his messy mop of hair that was straight out of a fucking Pantene commercial. Iwaizumi was shocked at how… domestic he looked?

Oikawa seemed to notice Iwaizumi’s hesitation, and he fidgeted with the sleeve of his hoodie. “Are you going to come in or not? I made coffee.” Oikawa said defensively before turning towards the kitchen and leaving Iwaizumi on the porch to hurriedly take off his shoes and keep up.

Throwing his coat haphazardly on a hook, he followed Oikawa into the marble kitchen- and there were two cups of coffee on the counter, as Oikawa promised. Beside the mugs were textbooks and various looseleaf covered in illegible scrawl. Oikawa stood in front of his mess, shrugging.

“I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing. Like, I think it’s chemistry from what the front of the textbook says, but I wouldn’t even trust my reading skills.”

Iwaizumi sat himself down, shuffling the papers with care, trying to discern what Oikawa needed to study. Though hard to read, he quickly gathered he must be taking the same test as Kuroo, which Iwaizumi had already covered. This would be easy. Iwaizumi took AP classes, so it wasn’t anything new to him.

“It’s not that hard of a course, it’ll be easy.” Iwaizumi said, reaching for his coffee. Bringing it to his lips, he took a cautionary sip- it was black, like he liked it. Oikawa remembered. Iwaizumi scanned the notes intently, as he flipped through sheet after sheet spread before him. In the absence of chatter, Oikawa took a seat next to him. Iwaizumi leaned over to Oikawa his pale fingers deftly underlining and circling several words on the page.

“You’re gonna wanna study these concepts, and besides some definitions that’ll be the majority of the test.” Iwaizumi murmured, his voice devoid of its usual bite as he focused on the notes before him and the cup of coffee steaming in front of his lips.

Oikawa leaned closer, his shoulder brushing against Iwaizumi’s as his eyebrows creased in concentration. Iwaizumi could feel Oikawa’s warm breath against his hands holding the paper, and he felt his ears go warm as he pushed the paper in Oikawa’s direction before he could feel any more embarrassment in the sudden closeness the two of them seemed to share all too often.

Looking up at Iwaizumi’s face, Oikawa’s eyebrow quirked in amusement. “Do I make Iwa-chan uncomfortable?” The brunette teased with a smile.

Iwaizumi’s heart pounded. “Don’t flatter yourself; I’m always uncomfortable,” Iwaizumi shot back, his face turned away from Oikawa as he leaned over to pull notebooks out of his backpack. Oikawa laughed, moving away from Iwaizumi to look up what he had been directed to study. Where Oikawa’s shoulder had been against Iwaizumi’s felt cold now.

They spent the next twenty or so minutes in surprising silence, the quietest Iwaizumi had ever Oikawa before. Not that he had known him long enough to know what he was usually like, he supposed. His eyes slid towards the athlete several times, grossly aware of his good posture and height that made Iwaizumi self-conscious of his hunched shoulders. Sighing as he flipped the pages of the textbook, writing page numbers and terminology in the notebook next to him, he noticed Oikawa’s eyes staring his head. Iwaizumi instinctively looked up with a scowl, expecting an insult.

“You look so much better when you’re not pissed off, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa spoke in a hushed voice, his chocolate brown eyes trained on Iwa’s green ones for a second, before looking back down at his work.

Iwaizumi’s eyes widened slightly at the unexpected compliment, and then his eyebrows creased in frustration. _This dude is fucking unreal._  Iwaizumi thought to himself, looking down at his work and coughing as he felt the heat on his cheeks crawl across his face. Stealing a second glance up, he saw Oikawa smile smugly to himself as he hummed, his reading glasses sitting precariously on the tip of his nose.

_Does this asshole just drop gay bombs constantly and is like, not aware of it? Is this his fucking sense of humor? What the fuck?_

The two continued like this for some time, the lazy Sunday air heavy and warm on Iwaizumi’s shoulders, punctuated by the shuffling of papers and the clink of coffee mugs. Iwaizumi liked the smell of coffee- it was thick and comforting and lingered in hazy clouds that drifted though your senses, recalling memories of pancake breakfasts and faces sticky with syrup. Iwaizumi was surprisingly relaxed in the comfortable silence shared between the two of them as he felt his mind drift.

Putting his chin in is hand, his eyes scanned their surroundings. Oikawa’s kitchen was expansive and sterile, but comforting when filled with the presence of the boys. The sun shone through the unadorned windows, glinting off the smooth white marble of the counter and the silver lacquered backplash, a sharp, eye-teasing contrast to the dark floor and black decorations. It was glamorous and minimal, as opposed to the rest of the old-fashioned house. It seemed to be used very little; exemplified by its impeccable state. It was mysteriously void of parents, something that had piqued Iwaizumi’s interest the first time he was here. Iwaizumi’s mother was often busy working, although when she was in the house her presence was unmistakable and all-consuming, her sun-like energy leaking into every inch of their yellow, cozy house so very unlike the one he was in now. Tapping his pen against the paper, he interrupted his own train of thought and reminded himself to get back to work as he resumed his writing.

After about an hour of quiet studying, Oikawa abruptly pushed his papers forward with a smooth flick of his wrist, raising his hands dramatically in the air.

“All right! I’m done!” The brunette exclaimed, and then slumped onto the table in defeat, pushing aside the layers of looseleaf that had collected on the table like layers of sediment.

“It’s only been an hour. This test is 50% of your grade.” Iwaizumi deadpanned, looking up from his notes with the barest hint of interest in Oikawa’s theatrics.

Oikawa moaned, the side of his face pressed into the cold countertop. Iwaizumi smiled a little- ok, Oikawa’s dramatics were a little entertaining.

“We’re not all big ol’ nerds like you, Iwa-chan~ I’m not smart enough for this….” Oikawa whined, his voice muffled from half of his mouth being squashed against the spiral rings of his binder.

Iwaizumi’s eye twitched in irritation at Oikawa’s teasing. Nevermind. 

“Yeah, well, fuck you too. If you’re done, I’m done here too.” Iwaizumi conceded, snapping Oikawa’s textbook shut and shoving the notebook he had been writing in towards him. “I wrote some shit for you in there, make sure to read it.”

“Iwa-chan…wait…” Oikawa moaned from the table, lifting his head as he reached out his hand towards Iwaizumi pleadingly. Iwaizumi stopped putting his books in his bag for a second, staring at Oikawa.

“Give me your number?” Oikawa asked, a smile playing across his lips as he looked up at Iwaizumi with mock-flirty eyes and a quirked eyebrow. “For emergency purposes only?” The brunette added, noting Iwaizumi's clearly unconvinced expression.

Iwaizumi huffed, chewing on the inside of his lip in thought. Picking up an errant pen from the table, he quickly scrawled his ten digits above something about electron affinity. “I better not get any weird shit.” He cautioned, turning to leave. 

“Promise!” Oikawa grinned, lifting his head in an exuberant smile like a dog who had just been praised as Iwaizumi’s socked feet stepped through the kitchen entryway.

 

* * *

 

 

Iwaizumi had just finished cleaning the kitchen, his sleeves still wet from where he had not pulled them high enough to escape the errant splashes of water. He was seated in the chipped desk of his small room, reviewing his Calculus notes from the week previous before he completely passed out. His mom had already left to work her night shift, and Akihiko was at a friends. Iwaizumi was alone in their silent house, absent of it’s usual bustle.

His room was fairly small and lacked of much personality aside from the mess of clothing that seemed to envelop his floor and dirty coffee mugs on every available flat surface. However, even in his most personal of spaces, Kuroo and Kenma’s influence seemed to have leaked in- some ageing video game release posters were stubbornly stuck to corner of his wall, and some of Kuroo’s favourite band's CDs were scattered on the floor in an attempt to convert Iwaizumi into a more enthusiastic groupie.

Iwaizumi rubbed the palms of his hands into his sleep-deprived eyes, leaning back into his cracked pleather chair. Raking his fingers through the spikes of short black hair that never seemed to lie down flat like he wanted, he yawned so deeply his eyes watered. It had been a long day, and between helping his mom out, putting up with Oikawa and working with Akihiko on his school project and driving him to his friends he was fucking exhausted and it was only 9.

Dragging his fatigued eyes from his schoolwork and to his small window, he took a moment to watch the neighbours tree gently sway in the nighttime breeze, every window in their small house bright and filled with their large family. It almost lit his room better than the single lamp he had on his desk, the rest of his house dark and stifling in it’s quietness. Sighing, Iwaizumi stumbled to his bed and flopped into the unmade sheets, his body sinking into the comfortable mattress. Reaching down, he unbuttoned his jeans, kicking them off awkwardly onto the floor so he could climb underneath his navy blue covers.

Squishing his face into the pillow, he hadn't even his eyes before he was interrupted by the vibrations of his phone lost somewhere in his bed.

Iwaizumi grunted and lifted his head slightly in response to the disturbance, like a confused cat disturbed from it's sleep. He hastily patted around his bed, waiting for his hand to hit the cold lump hidden somewhere in the sheets. When he found it, he peaked at the screen with one lazily opened eye. It was an unknown number, and they had attached a picture.

_> >>I still don’t get it~ (ﾉ)・´ω・(ヾ)_

The picture was of Oikawa, his face slumped into his notebook with a dismal look on his face. His reading glasses were skewed to the side from being pressed into the paper.

 _> is this an emergency and do I get paid overtime_ Iwaizumi replied almost immediately, opening both his bleary eyes to see what he was typing.

 _> >> Iwa-chan’s so grumpy!_ Oikawa typed back, and Iwaizumi could almost hear his lilting, musical words. Oikawa did have a nice voice- it was warm and spilled out like silk. It wasn’t high pitched, but it wasn’t deep, and he always needlessly emphasised to make everything he said dramatic. Iwaizumi supposed it made him kind of endearing when he wasn't so annoying. 

_> obv u woke me up_

_> >> It’s too early to go to bed! uwu_

_> im tired from ur shit_ Iwaizumi hastily replied, perching his chin on his red pillow to see his screen better.

 _> >>I can make you feel better~ ;)_ Iwaizumi received almost immediately, his face twisting in bewilderment.

_> unless that includes not texting me, no_

_> >>What are you wearing?? ⃛(❛ั◡˜๑)_

_> r u fucking trying to sext me ffs_

_> >>…..( ＾◡＾)_

_> piss off_

_> >>You’re not giving me a lot to work with, Iwa-chan~_

_> >>(* ˘⌣˘)◞[_]♥[_]ヽ(•‿• ) <This could be us_

Iwaizumi fought the urge to scream into his pillow, instead settling for an exasperated groan. He decided to ignore Oikawa’s fucked up sense of humor and increasingly weird emoji use, his eyelids fighting to fall shut as he typed a response.

_> goodnight. fuckin study._

_> >>Goodnight, Iwa-chan! Dream of me~ ;););););)_

Dropping his phone beside him, Iwaizumi rolled over to face the wall, knotting his legs into the duvet. As he stared into the aging, cracked rose wallpaper, Iwaizumi's tired body sank deeper into his familiar navy sheets. The light emanating from his uncovered window slowly receding with the falling of his heavy lids as he drifted into a warm and comfortable sleep. He did not, however, dream of Oikawa. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> u know when u read a fanfic and u get like, fuzzy feelings abt it and u all :DDDDDD? well when u write one and proofread it a million times u don't rlly so its like "is it fuzzy enough. r they gay enough. is this working." yes well its like that. i hope it's not too trashy and overtly flirty bc how the fuck do u write a slowburn lmao  
> on a side note all ur comments made me very fuzzy!!! ty ty ty!!!!!! so sweet love all u already bc im sappy like that.


	3. Alien vs Predator vs Iwaizumi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> oh my god ~ teenage suicide

Iwaizumi flipped to a fresh page in his notebook, the classroom quiet except for the sharp scribble of pens and the faint ramble of the teacher. The scowling boy was fighting to keep his eyes open as he struggled to pay attention to the ever increasing amount of words on the board, habitually tapping his pen against his binder in irritation. Iwaizumi had slept even less than usual this week, in trying to help Oikawa as much as he could before his exam. Stifling a yawn, he propped his chin in his hand to keep himself from collapsing into his textbooks. He had to start from the very bottom- Oikawa had apparently fucked around his entire academic career. However, the prick was a quick learner, and seemed eager to learn no matter the time. Iwaizumi had washed dishes with his phone propped on his shoulder teaching him about Arrhenius acids, and skyping late into the night explaining the nomenclature of binary compounds.

Oikawa still looked annoyingly amazing, despite staying up until 3:00 A.M. with Iwaizumi for a week. Iwaizumi wondered if Oikawa was used to this or bathed in the tears of virgins, because Iwaizumi looked like absolute shit. His eyes were were purple-shadowed and rubbed red, and his face was breaking out from the amount of greasy food he was eating- something about staying up late made him crave pizza and carbs and anything with unpronounceable chemicals. When Iwaizumi would disappear from the screen for a couple minutes, only to return with a cup of ramen, Oikawa would giggle with a little smug smirk that made Iwaizumi scowl as he slurped his noodles.

Despite Oikawa’s pompousness and arrogance, Iwaizumi found himself enjoying their time together, impressed by Oikawa’s determination and work ethic. When Oikawa set his sights on something, he chased it with such tenacity and persistence that shocked a normally complacent Iwaizumi. With his athletic excellence and studying chutzpah, Iwaizumi imagined he could achieve anything, and if he gave a shit about his schoolwork before he would have been an even more of a fucking prodigy. Iwaizumi couldn’t help but feel lesser than him. Anyone was capable of good grades, and beyond his academics Iwaizumi hadn’t participated in extracurriculars or fostered any special talents. He hadn’t bothered to make many friends, and he most certainly didn’t have the good looks and charm of Oikawa.

Iwaizumi rubbed the palms of his hands into his eyes until the black wallpaper of his eyelids bloomed into fireworks of blue and white in an attempt to reinvigorate himself. Yawning deeply, he opened his eyes and refocussed on the notes before him. Before he could even put pen to his paper, he felt a familiar buzz in the pocket of his jeans. Scowling, he inconspicuously slipped his phone from his pocket. It was Oikawa.

 _> >> GUESS WHAT!!! IWA-CHAN!!!!!_ It read, capitalized and excited, emblazoned against his default lockscreen.

_> what? Im in class hurry tf up_

_> >> The chem tests came in!! __✧*_ _｡_ _٩(ˊ_ _ᗜˋ*)_ _و_ _✧*_ _｡_ _Guess who got an 87~_

Iwaizumi smiled idly to himself, before quickly tapping a response.

_> u. im guessing. _

_> >> YOU BET. ME. I’M JUST SO GOOD AT EVERYTHING. NOBEL PRIZE BETTER GET READY FOR ME. _ _(•̀ᴗ•́)_ _൬_ _༉_

_> congrats. now shut up so I can focus_

_> >> Are we still on for Sunday? _

_> as long as u keep paying me._

_> >>You know you can’t get enough of me~ ;)_

_> fuck off_

_> >> Love you too! <3 uwu_

Iwaizumi pocketed his phone quickly, wary of a teacher catching him, and returned to his notes.

 

* * *

 

“It sounds like I ran over a cat.” Iwaizumi commented mildly as their performance came to a rousing finish. It was a late Friday afternoon, and Kuroo’s band were practicing as Iwaizumi and Kenma tried their best to ignore the noise.

“You wouldn’t need to run the cat over; it’d only need to see your fucking car,“ Kuroo retorted with a grin as he unplugged his guitar from the amp.

Iwaizumi snorted, tossing a lukewarm Gatorade to a thoroughly exhausted Kuroo. Glancing across the room, he saw Kenma was still tucked into the cracked pleather recliner, the blue light emanating from the PSP basking his face in a sickly glow. He had earbuds in, unsurprisingly. Kenma didn’t like loud noises, or typically anything that was obnoxious, and Iwaizumi was continually surprised with the fact he put up with Kuroo.

“Get your nose back in your books, nerd!” Bokuto shouted with a grin, pointing dramatically with a drum stick at Iwaizumi. It seemed his hair gel couldn’t maintain his silver-dyed spikes during his ecstatic head banging, and strands of it were sticking to his slick forehead. “All that studying and you still can’t appreciate art!”

Iwaizumi gave him the finger from across the room, but Kuroo had already stolen Bokuto’s short attention span with the 'totally sick' new guitar strap he had snagged off a kid at school.

Akaashi had already shrugged off his guitar, and sank into the green couch Iwaizumi was sitting on. A cigarette hung limply between his lips, and he lazily fished a lighter from the pocket of his jean jacket. After a couple unsuccessful flicks, it lit, and he covered it with a delicate hand that he brought to his mouth. His head leaning into the cushions, he took a long drag, spreading his body wide in relaxation. Iwaizumi looked up from his notebook to watch the lazy curls of nicotine and tobacco float through the air.

Akaashi seemed indifferent to the whole band thing- Iwaizumi was sure he only did it because Bokuto liked it so much. The rest of the time he just got stoned and laid around. Bokuto, Akaashi and Kuroo had grown up on the same street, and were friends long before Iwaizumi and Kenma. Now, they attended different schools, but remained close with Kuroo, and, by extension and Kuroo's basement had become good friends with the newer boys.  

“Yo. Iwaizumi.” Akaashi spoke quietly, blowing gentle clouds under lidded eyes. Iwaizumi glanced up from his absentminded doodling to look at Akaashi. “You coming to the next show?”

 “Probably not. Kenma hates those things, and I don’t wanna go alone.” Iwaizumi sighed, hastily erasing the errant scribbles he had made in his homework. “Besides, I’m pretty tied up in a tutoring gig.”

“Bring your kid. It’ll be a good one.” Akaashi said in his passive tone, leaning over to snuff the end of his cigarette into an empty coke can.

Iwaizumi couldn’t help but snort at that, receiving a raised eyebrow from Akaashi.  

“I don’t even think he even knows that part of town exists.” Iwaizumi explained, smiling at the thought of Oikawa in his rich boy khakis and polo shirts in a sea of tattoos and craft beer. Even Iwaizumi felt alien in the places Kuroo’s band performed.

Akaashi turned his head to Iwaizumi with hooded eyes, a mischievous smirk tugging one corner of his mouth as he took another deep drag of his cigarette.

“That makes it all the more fun.”

 

* * *

 

Iwaizumi was yanking on the broken stick shift of his car, pulling into the cobblestone driveway that led to Oikawa’s house. In his usual parking spot was a slick black convertible _. I didn’t realize Oikawa had a car?_ Eyebrows creasing in confusion, Iwaizumi ungracefully stumbled out of his door, book bag lazily tossed over his shoulder. Staring at the foreign vehicle in suspicion, he briskly continued towards the door.

Usually, Oikawa opened on the third or forth knock, wearing some kind of ridiculous alien sweater with glasses knocked askew and confused squint in his eyes. This time, barely seconds after the first knock, the large door swung open so quickly it made Iwaizumi jump. Behind it? Definitely not Oikawa.

She was tiny, with huge tits made even more evident by a low cut black dress. Her face was tanned and accentuated by the cascading curls of honey blonde hair that framed her face. Her lips were full and painted red, and she had large, doe eyes accentuated by expertly-applied eye shadow.

A million questions were running through Iwaizumi’s head before he could even open his mouth, slack-jawed as his eyes widened in surprise. _Who is this? His sister? Why do so many hot people live in this house? How have I never seen her before? Is she single?_

“Hello? Are you OK?” The beautiful woman questioned, her eyes blinking owlishly at the reddening teen. Long, manicured fingers rested on the curve of her hip as she cocked her head, two delicate eyebrows creasing in confusion and creating wrinkles out of place on such an immaculate creature. “Are you one of those knife salesman? I’ve had to tell you three times now, I’m not interested! I will talk to someone if you don’t stop coming here!”

“I-I’m here for Oikawa?” Iwaizumi stuttered in a voice devoid of it’s usual harshness and replaced by a high pitched squeak. He cringed inwardly, swallowing the dryness in his throat. _What are you, 13 again?_

“Oh!” The blonde woman exclaimed, her eyebrows shooting up in shock and hands flying to her mouth.

“Tooru doesn’t usually have friends over! I’m so sorry! Please, come in! He should have told me had a friend coming over!” Fretting, she gestured for Iwaizumi to enter. He obeyed, slipping off his shoes as she closed the door behind him. Her hands were flying in equal parts excited welcome and sudden panic. “I’ll go get him!”

She walked out of the entry way and into the house, hips swaying underneath her tight dress. Slipping off his shoes, Iwaizumi took a moment to appreciate the view, before mentally scolding himself to get it together, and what if your mom knew what you were thinking, damnit. 

 “To-ooru! Someone’s here for you!” She called in a honeyed voice, hands cupped around a red-lipped mouth. Iwaizumi heard distant swearing and the slam of a door, and his eyebrows creased in confusion.

 A dishevelled Oikawa appeared almost immediately at the foot of the staircase, running down quickly as the thud of his feet hitting the wooden steps echoed in the cavernous house. 

 Oikawa was wearing a distinct look of displeasure that Iwaizumi had not seen on him before, and it momentarily distracted him from the woman who had welcomed him. However, when Oikawa’s eyes reached Iwaizumi’s, his face broke into a smile as he briskly crossed the room to meet him at the door.

“You’re early!” Oikawa beamed, grabbing Iwaizumi’s hand as he practically yanked Iwaizumi further into the house, retreating back the staircase as quickly as possible. "Honestly, Iwaizumi, what am I going to do with you!" Oikawa didn’t spare a glance at the beautiful woman waiting in his wake, stringing along a confused Iwaizumi as he tried to pull him away as quick as possible without any explanation. 

The woman noticed this, and rested both of her perfectly manicured hands on her hips in obvious irritation at Oikawa's rudeness.

“Tooru, dear, aren’t you going to introduce your friend to me?” She asked in her sweet voice, before extending a hand to Iwaizumi. Oikawa stopped, and his face twitched in blatant irritation. Iwaizumi didn’t think like such a normally cheerful person could wear such a look of disgust, and the corners of Iwaizumi's mouth turned down in confusion and mild worry.

“I’m Oikawa Ayano.” The beautiful woman purred, introducing herself before Oikawa had a chance to begin or object.  Ayano was avoiding the brunette’s gaze, and instead focused her eyes on Iwaizumi. “I’m Tooru’s mother.”

“Iwaizumi Hajime.” Iwaizumi replied, nodding briskly and extending the hand not held by the temporarily immobilized Oikawa to shake hers. She held Iwaizumi’s gaze defiantly, ignoring the obvious displeasure of her son as she flashed her unnaturally white teeth. _Ah. So this is his mom. A little different than mine._

Oikawa turned his head to look at Iwaizumi, and stared into him, indifferent to the woman in the room.

“She’s not my mother.” He stated flatly, mouth twisting in annoyance. Iwaizumi knew he wasn’t on either of their minds right now, and he was uncomfortably aware of the tension between them.  Ayano’s smile disappeared as she turned her pointed, now sour gaze towards the brunette.

Without sparing a glance for Ayano, Oikawa turned on his heel towards the staircase and began pulling the stunned Iwaizumi up the wooden steps. Iwaizumi’s mind was blank, more than a little confused at what had occurred downstairs and unspoken words Ayano and Oikawa seemed to have shared in their short and hostile conversation.

"Hey! Tooru!" Ayano yelled, but Oikawa didn't stop.

 _I guess we’re not studying in the kitchen today._ Iwaizumi thought to himself mildly. He needed some coffee, too. 

Interrupting his thoughts was Oikawa’s hand as he led Iwaizumi. It was holding Iwaizumi’s wrist tightly, and Iwaizumi realized numbly Oikawa had been squeezing it the entire time Focused on the long, pale fingers pinching red lines into his tan skin, he hadn’t even realized they had reached an open doorway. _Oikawa’s room?_

“Sorry about that downstairs.” Oikawa smiled apologetically, slamming the door behind him and flopping into a spinny chair with a playful grin. His mood had switched in the absence of Ayano, and he positively beamed at Iwaizumi. “We have a bit of a love-hate relationship. It’s really quite endearing, I promise.

“So is she like, your mom then?” Iwaizumi asked in confusion, eyes avoiding Oikawa as they swept the room. It was well-kept and crisp, with standard white furniture and big windows wide open that let the spring sun engulf the room. The walls were a light green and mostly bare, an alien poster stuck to the corner and a volleyball calendar hanging despondently by the head of his unmade bed. The most noticeable part of the room were the CDs, which filled the shelves beside the numerous trophies and that sat stacked in neat piles on the floor.

“Stepmom,” Oikawa corrected, wagging a playful finger at Iwaizumi. “She doesn’t visit often.”

“Don’t you have a dad?” Iwaizumi blurted, and immediately regretted it. His face flushed a slight shade of rouge, as his mind immediately began spinning in prompt apology for his nosiness. “Dude, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to pry-“

“Iwa-chan worries too much!” Oikawa said, giggling at Iwaizumi’s sudden flush. “The old man visits even less.” The brunette continued, cocking his head to the side in amusement. “He’s pretty busy with work and the little toy you met downstairs.”

Iwaizumi’s eyebrows creased in confusion at Oikawa’s abrupt and casual dismissal of his family. Sure, Iwaizumi didn't know his dad, but he couldn’t imagine ever being so offhand about his mother.

“Don’t you get, like lonely?” Iwaizumi asked hesitantly, holding his book bag in front of him in uneasiness. He hadn’t actually ever asked Oikawa about anything personal before.

“It’s ok, I’ve got volleyball.” Oikawa acknowledged in a softer tone, his eyes glancing away from Iwaizumi and to the shelf of sports trophies and volleyball pictures. Not about to let the mood get too serious, he turned his head back to Iwaizumi with a sly grin and that stupid fucking look in his eye.

“Besides, I’ve got my very own Iwa-chan now~”

Iwaizumi scowled as he felt the heat crawl across his cheeks. _That’s a_ _way to avoid a question._ The boy thought to himself, grossly aware of the shade of red he was turning. Oikawa seemed to enjoy making him squirm.

“So- what’s the next test?” Iwaizumi asked, clearing his throat as he avoided Oikawa’s satisfied smirk.

“Ugh, Iwa-chan, you’re so serious! We did all that studying this week and you still want to do this stuff??” Oikawa moaned from his chair, dramatically slumping in sudden-onset exhaustion.

Iwaizumi’s eyebrows twitched in anger as he sat on the floor, his mouth turning down in annoyance.

“You’re the one who wanted me to come today?” Iwaizumi said, scowling from the floor at Oikawa.

“Nevermind that,” Oikawa cooed, flicking his wrist in a shooing motion. Pushing with his socked feet, his chair rolled across the hardwood floor to the shelf of CDs. “How about we watch a movie?”

Iwaizumi’s face twisted into some kind of inconceivable slash of confusion and anger. _Did I really drive all the way the fuck out here for a movie with this prick? Do you know how much gas costs when you’re fucking broke??????? My car could literally break down at any fucking moment have you seen the fucking thing??????????????_

“You’re fucking kidding me, right?” Iwaizumi muttered from the floor in frustration, but Oikawa ignored him, humming as he flicked through the CDs on the shelf. He could totally be at home, sleeping and eating an entire pot of macaroni by himself right now. Sighing, Iwaizumi realized he had been pulled into Oikawa’s whimsies again. There was no fucking way he was going to get him to study now.

Looking around the floor, he absentmindedly plucked one of the many CDs sitting in piles in curiosity. It was inconspicuous, unlabelled clear plastic, similar to most of the CDs in the room. Turning it over in his hands, he read _Date Tech vs. Nekoma_ scrawled across the disc in black sharpie. itself. _Weren’t those schools? Must be volleyball shit._ Glancing at the next CD in the pile, he read a similar title of tidily-written school names on otherwise bare discs. 

Before he could reach for another, Oikawa had zoomed back over in his chair, smiling gleefully as he wagged a CD case in his hand.

“Guess what we’re watching?” Oikawa bubbled, his grin uncontainable.

“What?” Iwaizumi asked tiredly, rolling his eyes from the floor to Oikawa’s absolutely fucking elated face.

“Alien vs. Predator. A personal favourite,” Oikawa divulged, climbing out of his chair and onto the floor with Iwaizumi. On his hands and knees, he gave Iwaizumi an exaggerated wink, his bright white teeth still flashing across his face in excitement.

“Of course, we can do other things, if Iwa-chan wants…” Oikawa purred in a mock sultry voice, quirking an eyebrow.

“Go to hell, Shittykawa!” Iwaizumi growled, scooting away in haste from Oikawa and pushing himself up against the bed. Reaching behind him, he grabbed a pillow and lobbed it at Oikawa’s stupid face as he felt his cheeks burn in embarrassment.

 “Alright, alright, I see how it is,” Oikawa laughed, throwing the pillow back at a flustered Iwaizumi and crawling to the TV. While Oikawa busied himself with starting the movie, Iwaizumi pulled the pillow into his lap nervously. He picked at the corners with his fingers out of habit, chewing the inside of his cheek. He was blushing. Blushing a lot. He shouldn’t be blushing. _Get it together, dumbass._

Oikawa padded across the floor, the movie previews already rolling. He was wearing a lime green hoodie, with a giant ridiculous alien face, and his hair was perfectly mussed and straight out of a shampoo commercial, like always. Oikawa wasn’t wearing his reading glasses, seeing as he wasn’t planning to accomplish any studying today, and Iwaizumi could see his big, blown out brown eyes and rosy cheeks in perfect, unobstructed view. His lips were red and glossy from habitual licking, and-

 _Wwowowowowow. Slow down, gay thoughts._ Iwaizumi was growing increasingly redder despite Oikawa not having done a thing. He clutched his pillow tight to himself, and avoided eye contact with the brunette who had now sat plopped himself beside him.

“Yo, you want to share the blanket?” Oikawa asked with a confused expression, staring at Iwaizumi’s flustered face with a raised eyebrow. His hands were twisted in the blanket he had across his legs. Iwaizumi chose not to speak, and instead nodded his head. Oikawa shrugged, and tossed the blanket over both their laps.

It was blue, like Iwaizumi’s, but instead of smelling like unwashed sheets and sweat, it smelled of chamomile detergent and grass. Oikawa always smelled like soap, and he reminded Iwaizumi of clean, ironed things and white linen. Sparing a glance at the boy beside him, he noticed Oikawa had already curled himself into the sheets, the blanket up to his chin as he stared intently at the TV with his eyebrows creased in concentration. Quickly averting his gaze back to the screen before Oikawa could catch him peeking, Iwaizumi hoped the red in his cheeks had become less obvious. There was absolutely no reason he should be getting this bothered. 

Iwaizumi was distantly aware of the what was occurring on the screen, but his mind was consumed of thoughts of Oikawa and studying and coffee. He was tired after staying up all night reviewing for his Physics class, and he hadn’t had a single cup of the black stuff all day. Yawning into his fist, he rested his head against the bed behind him, before everything slowly turned black.

 

* * *

 

When Iwaizumi woke up, he was lying on a bed, swaddled in the blue blanket like a goddamn child. Confused, Iwaizumi blinked hard, trying to accustom himself to the brightness that shone through the large windows and the alien poster that was pinned to the wall he was curled into.

_Alien poster?_

As his consciousness quickly flooded back to him, it didn’t take long for Iwaizumi to remember where he was. His eyes widened in sudden panic, and his hands shot down to his legs-

His pants were still on, and he breathed a quiet sigh of relief. After all, he was in Oikawa Tooru’s bed. God only knew what the fuck happened in there.

Turned his head to the side, he saw Oikawa sitting in his desk, humming to himself as he scribbled in his notebook. Iwaizumi could hear the familiar scratch of pen and flipping of pages from across the room, and Oikawa was surrounded by textbooks and looseleaf.

Yawning, Iwaizumi propped himself up one his elbows and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

“Iwa-chan’s up!” Oikawa exclaimed, spinning around his rolly chair to face the freshly awoken boy.

“I hope you know I’m not paying you for the hours you’re asleep,” The giddy brunette reminded him, sitting cross-legged in his chair like a child.

Iwaizumi moved to sit on his butt, but was struggling to escape the tightly-wound blankets.

“Did you… put me in the bed?” Iwaizumi asked with a mildly horrified expression as he tried to untangle his legs from the swaddle of sheets.

“Of course! I couldn’t just let Iwa-chan fall asleep on the floor,” Oikawa bubbled, wagging his finger at Iwaizumi. “That would make me a rude friend, y'know?”

“Was it necessary to tuck me in?” Iwaizumi grumbled, having pulled his legs out of the bed and placed his feet on the floor. Furrowing his eyebrows, he reached for the phone in his hoodie pocket, and pulled it out.

“Holy shit, was I out for three hours?” Iwaizumi practically yelled, jolting out of bed in panic. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“Well, it was a long movie, and Iwa-chan just looked so cute asleep on me,” Oikawa chimed in response, pouting a little as he cocked his head to the side. “And I totally forgot that I’m absolutely mad at you for sleeping through it and you totally owe me.”

Iwaizumi stopped shoving his books into his book, his jaw slacking as his face paled.

“I-I fell asleep on you?” Iwaizumi asked hesitantly.

“Well, of course you did, where else would you?” Oikawa huffed, confused as to why Iwaizumi would ask such a obvious question. “You totally drooled on my favourite hoodie too. Anyway, you still need to make it up to me for missing the totally best part-“

Iwaizumi stopped listening to Oikawa, who was preoccupied with explaining some part of the movie Iwaizumi was unconscious for. Instead he put his head in his hands and moaned in embarrassment, his cheeks flushing a deep pink. _I need to go home right now. Right now. Super duper now._

Stumbling to his feet, Iwaizumi threw his bookbag over his shoulder and began his escape. He was avoiding looking at the rambling Oikawa, for the sake of his shredded dignity.

“Yo man, I gotta go, like, do, stuff, y’know? Super busy, super late, gotta go!” Iwaizumi awkwardly explained, crossing the room in quick strides. The sooner he got away from Oikawa, the better.

“But you still owe me!~” Oikawa pouted from across the room, crossing his arms in mock anger.

Hand on the doorknob, Iwaizumi sighed, closing his tired eyes. _Fuck._ Oikawa was gonna get what he wanted, like always.

Iwaizumi coughed in embarrassment, eyes still closed in avoidance of the brunette as he tried to hide his embarrassment.

“Uh, you wanna go to like, a show next weekend?” Iwaizumi stuttered, fumbling with his words. “It’s a friends, it’s like, alternative stuff? I totally get it if you don't wanna-“

“Is Iwa-chan asking me on a date?” Oikawa interrupted, his voice no longer whiney. Instead, he was speaking in that smug, self-satisfied tone he used whenever his warped sense of humor made Iwaizumi’s face turn red and his insides squirm.

_Fuck you, Oikawa._

“You know wha-“ Iwaizumi began, the flush in his cheeks stronger as he looked over his shoulder in anger at the other boy sitting tidily in his chair, about to retort with a jab about his stupidly good hair. 

“I’d love to,” Oikawa answered, a smile spread wide across his face with his hands clasped in his lap, wearing an expression of absolute satisfaction.

“Oh- uh, ok. I’ll, uh, text you?” Iwaizumi said, coughing in embarrassment. “S-see you then?”

“Bye-bye, Iwa-chan!~” Oikawa cooed, as Iwaizumi rushed out of the room and down the stairs. Maybe if he ran away from Oikawa, he could escape the flush in his cheeks and the pounding in his chest. Or maybe he was going into cardiac arrest. God only knew this tutoring gig was bad for his heart.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lowkey wrote this chapter bc there is a lack of stoner akaashi. and i wanted a smoking scene. with my favorite pretty setter. and for kuroo to wear a leather jacket. and for everyone to wear a leather jacket. fuck it.  
> writing this chapter made me SCREAM i hope u guys enjoy it <3 ty ty for reading !
> 
> edit: in case u all wanna discuss how fucking amazing akaashi is my tumblr is ichigo--girl.tumblr.com if yall wanna talk bc i am so! into talking! and using exclamation points


	4. Coffee Shop Thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> naive ~ the kooks

  _> r u gonna come out wtf is taking u so long honestly im gonna fucking leave u_

Not only had Iwaizumi agreed to spend **unpaid** time with Oikawa **Fucking** Tooru on a weekend he would have otherwise spent eating cold pizza and sleeping; he had been forced to wait in that goddamn cobblestone driveway for ten minutes because Oikawa couldn’t decide what to wear. Iwaizumi moaned as he sunk deeper into the musty vinyl of his seat, his absolute suffering written clearly across his face.

 _> >> This one? Or this one? I cant decide, Iwa-chan~ (_ _≧д≦ヾ)_

Attached to the message was a photo of two different shirts laid on his neatly-made bed. One was a light blue button-up, and the other a graphic tee.

_> >>Is this a dressier thing or a casual thing?_

_> does it fucking matter they’re basically the same fucking thing_

_> >>Iwa-chan!!! Are you honestly calling a button up and a t shirt the same!!! They aren’t even similar I take personal offense to this!!!!!_

_> my food is on the pedal I am honest to god leaving u right now_

_> >>The chambray it is!!! (*_ _＾▽＾)_ _／_

True to his word, Iwaizumi was driving away- he had backed nearly halfway out of his driveway when Oikawa flew out of the mahogany doors of his sprawling mansion. A smile that could only be described as that of a golden retriever was plastered across his face as Oikawa leapt across the manicured lawn with astonishing ease while buttoning up whatever the fuck a chambray shirt was. He did look well-dressed, at least compared to Iwaizumi’s attire of track pants and worn-thin hoodie. Iwaizumi shot him a glower from the window, stopping his car, and Oikawa winked in return, sticking out his tongue as he bounded to the open car door.

“Sorry, sorry, Iwa-chan~” Oikawa chirped as he swung himself into his seat with ease, head leaning back as his fingers moved to his top buttons. “Honestly, you are entirely unhelpful in the getting ready process and I am thoroughly disappointed with your input.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Iwaizumi muttered, settling his hand on Oikawa’s seat as he turned his head to back out of Oikawa’s driveway. As he maneuvered his way out and onto the street, he caught a glance of Oikawa’s horrified face, hands stilled halfway through doing his last button.

“What?” Iwaizumi asked in confusion, the hand resting on Oikawa’s head rest shooting to his face. “Shit, is there something in my teeth?”

“I’m way too overdressed, aren’t I?” Oikawa asked with a worried expression, eyes blown wide as he stared at Iwaizumi. “Oh my god, I’m going to look totally out of place! I knew I should’ve just worn the T-shirt!”

“Why the fuck would you think that?” Iwaizumi asked in utter bewilderment at Oikawa’s problem.

“Well-“ Oikawa fretted, gesturing at Iwaizumi’s outfit, “I mean, you’re just dressed so lazy, this is why I need your _input_ on this kind of thing, Iwa-chan, honestly what kind of crowd even is this-“

Iwaizumi’s eye twitched in annoyance at Oikawa’s seemingly obliviousness to his underhanded insult, hands steeled on the grip of the steering wheel to restrain himself from punching Oikawa. _I’m sure the last thing people will notice about you is the shit you’re wearing._ Instead, he focussed on navigating Oikawa’s twisty suburbs and remembering the directions to the small café.

 _Alright, I think I take a turn here-_ Iwaizumi’s thought process was immediately halted as he felt a cold hand pull the low-hanging lip of his jogger’s waist and snap his underwear band.

The car swerved for one terrifying second and Oikawa snapped his hand back immediately as he grabbed the armrest in terror.

“Dude! What the fuck!!?” Iwaizumi yelled, his voice an embarrassing several octaves higher. Covering his ass with one hand, he felt the blush consume his entire body as he righted the car back on the road.

“Honestly, I was just checking what size you wore, no need to crash the car,” Oikawa replied calmly, letting out a dramatic huff as he relinquished his grip on the armrest.

“???? Why??? The fuck??” Iwaizumi coughed out, staring at him in slack-jawed exasperation and utter bewilderment.

“Were you even listening to me?” Oikawa asked accusingly, quirking his eyebrow at Iwaizumi and crossing his arms.

 “I was just saying how incredibly bland your fashion taste is and that I refuse to be associated with people that live solely in different variations of the same black track pants,“ Oikawa lectured, one haughty eyebrow raised as he continued, “and that you clearly need my omniscient sense of style in your life and we are going shopping.”

 “Like hell we are, you bastard,” Iwaizumi retorted, turning his red face away from Oikawa and back towards the road in front of him. “Besides, black is flattering and it matches everything, right?”

Oikawa gave Iwaizumi one last crestfallen, disappointed look, and then slumped back into his seat in wordless surrender.

_I thought black was slimming?_

“Well, whatever, we’re here.” Iwaizumi announced as he pulled into an empty space close to the small and inconspicuous brick coffee-shop. It was small, but popular at night among beginning bands and slam-poetry enthusiasts. Bokuto’s dented van was parked beside them and the café door was propped open; Kuroo and Bokuto could be seen grunting and probably swearing as they tried to wedge Bokuto’s drums through the small red-painted door.

Iwaizumi and Oikawa climbed out of the car, and almost immediately the sound of a crashing cymbal and Kuroo’s swearing rang too loud in front of the peaceful café.

“Iiiwwwaaaizzzummmiii!!!!!” Bokuto yelled, garnering the stares of some confused passersby and dropping the drum he was carrying with Kuroo in the doorway. He animatedly ran into Iwaizumi’s arms with an shit-eating grin plastered across his face, almost knocking Iwaizumu over and onto the sidewalk.

“Iwaizumi, my sweet prince, my knight in shining armor,” Bokuto pleaded to a deadpanned Iwaizumi, looking at him with mock dramatic eyes as he held Iwaizumi’s shoulders. “Will you-“

“I’m not carrying your drums for you,” Iwaizumi replied coldly, shrugging off Bokuto’s sweaty hands from his shoulders.

Bokuto took several dramatic steps back, hand over his heart in offense. “Iwaizumi… how are you so cold…. after all we’ve done….” Bokuto’s theatrics were quickly halted as soon as his eyes found Oikawa standing awkwardly next to the scowling Iwaizumi. “Ohoho, who’s this? Does Iwaizumi actually have frien-“

“BOKUTO IF YOU DON’T COME LIFT THE FUCKING DRUM OFF MY FOOT I’M GONNA PUT NAIR IN YOUR CHEAP HAIR DYE AGAIN-“ Kuroo yelled from the doorway, wincing as he tried to hold the cymbal sets and the drum that had fallen on his foot in Bokuto’s haste.

“Coming, my darling~” Bokuto chirped back, smile quickly brought back across his face as he trotted back to Kuroo and lifted the heavy snares with ease. “Hey, where’d Akaashi go?”

“Probably with Tsukishima in the washroom,” Kuroo replied solemnly, grimacing as he lifted the heavy snares off his foot and through the doorway. “Iwaizumi, hurry up and grab some shit for our useless and horny bandmate.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Iwaizumi replied lazily, hiking the drum chair over his shoulder as he grabbed the two guitars from the trunk. Looking up as he closed the trunk doors, he tossed a bright red electric guitar to a stunned Oikawa who, despite astounding athletic abilities almost dropped it in sheer confusion.  


“Iwa-chan.. are all of your friends like this?” Oikawa asked in a quiet voice, eyes glassy as he stared at the open doorway where Kuroo and Bokuto had disappeared.

Iwaizumi shrugged the guitar strap over his shoulder. “No, thank god.”

The café was endearingly dusty and vintage, with mismatched chairs and half burnt-out light fixtures. The art on the walls was abstract and colourful, and the air smelled of cigarette smoke and coffee that settled on the skin like a thin coating of caffeine and nicotine. Iwaizumi liked it here. They made good coffee and the girls were cute. However, his happiness was short-lived- Kuroo and Bokuto were huddled in front of the stage, whispering and making no effort to conceal their smug grins and blatant stares at Oikawa.

Glaring at the two scheming leather-jacket clad teenagers in warning, he tugged Oikawa’s arm and pulled him towards the stage.

“This is Oikawa Tooru, the kid I’ve been tutoring,” Iwaizumi said, introducing Oikawa to Kuroo and Bokuto. “Oikawa, the one with the bedhead is Kuroo, and the one with the granny hair is Bokuto.”

“Nice to meet you both!~” Oikawa said with a charming smile, hand stretched out in friendly greeting.

Kuroo and Bokuto ignored the amiable outstretched hand and instead looked at each other and back at Oikawa in mutual understanding. Wicked smiles spread across their faces that made Iwaizumi go cold inside.

“Oikawa, is it? It’s so nice to finally meet you,” Bokuto purred, using his height advantage to lean on Iwaizumi’s head.

“We’ve heard so much about you from Iwaizumi,” Kuroo cooed, reaching to grab his outstretched hand in both of his, before both boys looked at Iwaizumi devilishly with mischievous smirks.

 “Of course, we’ve heard so many other names for you,” Kuroo continued, before his hand reached out to the hem of Oikawa’s shirt, lifting it up suggestively. “Isn’t that right, Iwaizumi?”

Iwaizumi would have loved to have been dead right now.

“Is it true you have abs that could grate cheese?” Bokuto asked with wide eyes.

“Are your arms really the proof of the second coming of Christ and/or Channing Tatum?”

“Do you always wander around shirtless?” “How often do you seduce your poor tutor nerds?” “Did you give Iwaizumi a boner?”

The two asked in a furious repertoire of questions at an increasingly fumbling and pink Oikawa, who was cornered by the spawn of Satan themselves.

Iwaizumi could do nothing but stare hopelessly at the train wreck that was occurring before, his own face the colour of a fire hydrant and as he wished for a swift and merciless death. His hands were clammy and his mouth was dry as he nervously swallowed the dryness in his throat and tried to at least half smile as he envisioned being swallowed up by the floor. _I’ve never even seen Oikawa blush before I w a n t t o d I e_

“Did- did Iwaizumi really say all that about me?” Oikawa asked with a nervous smile, staring at Iwaizumi with desperate eyes that said he was clinging to the hope this was just a joke. Kuroo and Bokuto now trained their piercing gaze on Iwaizumi, waiting for his reply.

 _FUCK??!_ Iwaizumi nervously licked his lips, and opened his mouth as if to say something- and then closed it. That was answer enough, and Kuroo and Bokuto finally broke down in splitting laughter as both Oikawa and Iwaizumi were left to stare uselessly at each other as they grew increasingly redder.

“I-uh” “Um- well-“ They both began at the same time, before promptly shutting their mouths and averting their gaze, resigning themselves to awkward silence as Bokuto and Kuroo died on the floor.

“What are the dumbasses doing on the floor?” A condescending voice cut through the awkward silence and the sounds of raucous laughter coming from the ground. Iwaizumi whipped his head up, grateful for the interruption to his ~~death~~ embarrassment.

“Why the fuck are you so red?” Tsukishima asked bluntly, eyebrows creased as he stared down at Iwaizumi. His hair was mussed and his cheeks were slightly flushed, and on his arm was an equally dishevelled and level-eyed Akaashi.

“Coming from you,” Iwaizumi hastily retorted, crossing his arms. “Back from the bathroom stalls?”

“Who’s that?” Akaashi interrupted before Tsukishima could snap back at Iwaizumi, his curious eyes focussed on the awkwardly fidgeting Oikawa.

“Oh-um, this is Oikawa, the kid I’ve been tutoring,” Iwaizumi explained, breaking Tsukishima’s venomous glare and nodding towards Oikawa.

“Oikawa, this is Akaashi Keiji, and the tall guy is Tsukishima Kei, resident sound and tech guy.” Tsukishima glared at Iwaizumi, and Akaashi licked his lips as he extended a delicate hand to Oikawa in greeting.

“Pleasure to meet you, Tsukishima and Akaashi,” Oikawa said with a smile, the flush on his cheeks finally dulling as he smiled amicably at the impassive duo.

“Pleasure’s all mine, Oikawa.” Akaashi purred with a small closed lip smile and lidded eyes that travelled Oikawa’s body up and down.  

“Alright, well, you guys are hooked up and the sound checks done, so I’m out,” Tsukishima said with an indignant flick of his wrist towards Kuroo and Bokuto.

“You’re leaving?” Akaashi asked quietly, eyes reverting to Tsukishima.

“Yeah, I’ll see you tonight.” Tsukishima replied, ducking down to give the dark-haired boy a quick nip on the neck. Akaashi smiled wryly at him, and Kuroo and Bokuto stuck out their tongues.

“Ew,” Kuroo said weakly, and Akaashi sent him a challenging glare.

“At least I get laid. Why don't you go ask out Kiyoko again?” Akaashi replied easily. Kuroo rested a hand over his heart in mock horror as he relived traumatic flashbacks.

Bokuto put his hands on Kuroo’s shoulders, shielding him like a mother from Akaashi. “Don’t hurt him like this, the poor straight boy has been through enough!”

Oikawa nudged Iwaizumi’s shoulder, catching his attention as he leaned in to whisper.

“Am I missing something important here?” Oikawa asked quietly, his eyes on the three boys in front of him.

“Kiyoko’s the barista here, super hot and apparently super gay. When she told him, he asked for a threesome,” Iwaizumi explained in a hushed tone. “He got slapped pretty hard. It was funny.”

Oikawa made a soft oh sound, his eyes wide. Iwaizumi was just glad the idiots had moved on from Oikawa and were now embarrassing themselves.

“Kuroo. Bokuto. It’s time to get ready.” Akaashi interrupted them, placid eyes rolling from bandmates to Oikawa and Iwaizumi.

“Alright, alright, Akaashi~” Bokuto and Kuroo replied in unison, following behind Akaashi with a small smile and wave towards Iwaizumi and Oikawa.

“Enjoy the show!” “Wear a condom!”

Iwaizumi’s made a tching sound between gritted teeth, flipping the two teenagers the bird as they left. Softening his scowl, he turned to Oikawa, who let out an audible exhale of relief.

“Your friends….sure are something?” Oikawa said, eyes wide as they focussed on Iwaizumi.

“Yeah, you could say that,” Iwaizumi replied, the corner of his lip curling down at the thought of them. “I’m sorry if they made you uncomfortable.”

“No, no, it’s fine~” Oikawa replied with a nonchalant flick of his wrist, a sly grin pulling across perfect teeth. “You just owe me a drink.”

“Why’s that?” Iwaizumi said with a scoff, eyebrow quirked in challenge.

“Since I blessed your life with my shirtless-ness.” Oikawa said teasingly, winking at Iwaizumi and playfully sticking out his tongue.

Iwaizumi felt the tips of his ears go hot as he hastily looked away from Oikawa. “Fine! I’m only getting you a kid’s size though!”

“I’ll get us a table, you get the drinks.” Oikawa said warmly, smiling at the flustered Iwaizumi.

 

* * *

 

Two coffees, a hot chocolate and several croissants later, the show had come to an end just as the late afternoon shifted into early night. With the wave of hands and several farewells, Oikawa and Iwaizumi had bid Kuroo, Bokuto, and Akaashi adieu just in time to avoid helping them pack their things. They were walking down the street to the car; at night, the downtown became bright and congested but right now the streets were still quiet as shops and bars only just begin to switch on their neon signs and prepare for the bustle of nightlife.

The air was surprisingly chilly for a June despite the humidity that settled heavily on those who walked through like a disgustingly damp and ugly coat that made you simultaneously sweat through your shirt and want to wear a sweater. His car wasn’t far- at most, only several metres down the street. Oikawa and Iwaizumi had been silent since they left the café; less out of lack of conversation and more out of exhaustion. It was no easy feat to out up with Bokuto and Kuroo, but Oikawa easily fell into their rhythm and by the end of the night, laughing at their jokes and making his own with all with easy smiles and quick wit. Iwaizumi and Akaashi could only note in awe at both Oikawa’s charismatic and commanding presence and the terrifying possibility of another Kuroo or Bokuto.

The sun had laid to rest just below the skyline and its last rays painted the sky a canvas of fiery oranges melting below the cool blue of night. Iwaizumi glanced from the sidewalk ahead of him to the tall teenage boy beside him- the orange glow shone through his hair like gold and illuminated his pale skin, highlighting the upturned swoop of his nose and the gentle curve of his jawline.

_Pretty._

Oikawa pulled the sleeves of his shirt over the palms of his hands, wrapping his arms around himself as they walked towards the car.

“Dude, are you cold?” Iwaizumi asked incredulously, his forehead damp in the June humidity.

“Yeah, it’s cold out, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa replied with a slight pout as he glanced at Iwaizumi.

“Bro- one sec-,” Iwaizumi replied, and then began pulling the hem of his hoodie.

“What are you doing?” Oikawa asked warily with a raised eyebrow as he stopped on the sidewalk besides Iwaizumi.

“What do you think, idiot?” Iwaizumi asked, his voice muffled by the fabric of the sweater he was trying to get over his head.

“Stripping?”

“No! Dumbass!” Iwaizumi said as he tugged his sweater off and then held it out to Oikawa. “You’ll catch a cold.”

Oikawa looked at it hesitantly, eyes flitting up to Iwaizumi and back to the sweater.

“This is surprisingly chivalrous of you, Iwa-chan~”

Iwaizumi sighed, pushing his sweater towards the now coyly grinning Oikawa. “Just take it, dumbass.”

Oikawa reluctantly plucked the sweater from Iwaizumi’s outstretched hands and pulled it over his head, hair mussed from being shoved through the neck.

“Thanks, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa said, smiling warmly as he ran a hand through his tousled locks. “How romantic of you~!”

Iwaizumi scowled at the cheery Oikawa as he opened the door to his car and plopped into the seat. Oikawa did the same, albeit more gracefully, and Iwaizumi started the car and backed out of his shitty parking job. Oikawa was picking at the ragged hems of his old sweater, and Iwaizumi was momentarily glad he had listened to his mother and done his laundry.

“Hey, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa blurted out into the car’s silence.

“Yeah?” Iwaizumi asked, eyes focussed on the road ahead as he turned out of the downtown.

“So, like, you really thought my abs were that amazing?”

Iwaizumi groaned as he sunk further into his seat. “Dude, can we like, not talk about this… ever….?”

“Iwa-chan, it’s not often I hear that kind of praise from a boy! I’m flattered!” Oikawa teased, and Iwaizumi could imagine the smug grin on his face if he dared look at him.

“Are you going to tease me about this forever?” Iwaizumi asked in a weary tone.

“Yes, probably. I didn’t expect you to be so gay though~” Oikawa replied cheerily.

“I’m not gay! I was just, like, intimidated!” Iwaizumi exclaimed, glaring at Oikawa. “You were half naked and super ripped and you did that thing where you leaned in really close and I got a little freaked out, okay??!”

“Alright, alright, partially my fault,” Oikawa mused. “It’s just my luck I got a scrawny Iwa-chan on my doorstep instead of a pretty girl~”

Iwaizumi sighed, but stayed silent. Quite frankly, there wasn’t anything he could say at this point to remedy this situation and salvage the last remaining scraps of his dignity. Luckily, they had arrived at Oikawa’s house, and Iwaizumi managed to yank his broken stick shift into park and pull up to the curb.

“Alright, get out now.” Iwaizumi announced, staring at Oikawa expectantly.

“Well, that’s a little harsh, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa said, pouting. “Aren’t you going to give me a kiss goodnight?”

“Sorry, I was trying to be extremely harsh. Will try harder.” Iwaizumi retorted, leaning across the seat and Oikawa’s lap to push his door open for him. “Get the fuck out.”

Sticking out his tongue playfully, Oikawa climbed out of the car with ease, but stopped before he closed the door.

“Don’t you want your sweater back?” Oikawa asked suddenly, pointing at the hoodie he was wearing questioningly.

“Nah, just wear it for now. Give it back to me next time, yeah?” Iwaizumi replied hastily, already moving into drive as he prepared to leave Oikawa’s house.

“Awe, Iwa-chan is romantic after all!” Oikawa cooed, “Good~night!” With one last teasing grin, he closed the door and turned to his house. Iwaizumi flipped him the bird to his back, and drove away.

Driving home, he contemplated the day’s long and embarrassing events. In the silence of his empty car and the stark darkness of the night, his mind began to drift from thoughts of dusty café’s and music Bokuto’s stupid hair to thoughts of Oikawa- when he yelped and stuck his tongue out after burning it on hot chocolate, the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed at Kuroo’s stupid jokes, how his eyes were the colour of cinnamon and coffee and sweet chocolate and the way they held Iwaizumi’s whenever he spoke-

_Wait, **does** that make me gay?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry this is turning into a massive fluff shitpost i apologize  
> im so sorry this took so long i got swamped by like 300 things and got some mad writers block but hey guess who snuck in their bathroom quickie rarepair ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)  
> anyway!! i hope this is somewhat decent!!! because i wrote it all at 5 am last night!!! and i hate myself for all of whatever this has become!!!!  
> as always, my tumblr is ichigo--girl.tumblr.com if u ever wanna talk bc i LOVE to talk about my Gays™


	5. Your Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> eyes off you ~ bombay bicycle club

The birds chirped in abrupt, shrieking chorus just beyond his window, and the light that floated through the white panes of glass illuminated his mounting pile of musty laundry and three day old dishes that swallowed every square inch of table and floor not already appropriated by homework and underwear. Iwaizumi lay still like this for quite some moments, squinting as he tried to wet his dry mouth. His body was too sore to justify getting up for quite some while, the benefits of sitting in bed until his possible death from starvation or dehydration preferable to dealing with the massive fucking hangover that was ripping his cranium in two. At least, the pros of not moving did outweigh the cons, until he felt the dreaded acidic crawl up his esophagus that should have prompted him to run.

Iwaizumi lurched off the bed, and briefly considered what to do in the short span of time the seven shots, countless coolers and entire pack of saltines would claw their way up his throat and onto the nearest surface. He could run to the bathroom or alternatively, he could grab the nearest container next to him and hope to fucking god he found it in time. He didn’t get much time. Squeezing his eyes shut, he hurled the contents of his stomach into whatever he had found and he spent several minutes hunched over in cold sweat, purging himself of all the shit he liked to shove into his garbage body. 

It took 10 minutes of shivering, closed eyed dread until he felt his stomach settle down from its fit. Hesitantly, he cracked one eye open- 

Rest in pieces, half eaten box of Captain Crunch. 

Wincing at his own disgusting self, he tentatively closed the flaps to the mostly vomit filled cardboard box and spent a little more time reflecting on his disgusting state while slumped on the floor. 

It’s always a bad idea when Bokuto wants to go drinking. Always. 

Iwaizumi rubbed the palms of his hands into his eyes, trying to jostle his memory from the previous night. Most importantly, he had made it home, although he had no clue how. It’s still better than waking up in a ditch with a Labrador Retriever affectionately nicknamed Ketchup Packet along with an entire barbecue. That was a fun fourth of July. 

His hands patted his chest and track pants, searching for his phone. At the lack of the rectangular square of metal, he started fervently patting his sheets and bed. Nowhere. The panic was rising in Iwaizumi’s chest, replacing the feeling of nausea as he squeezed his temples gingerly with his index fingers and thumbs. 

Just think about where you had it last-

Iwaizumi didn’t need to think, because barely a second later he heard the familiar buzz of a notification reverberating through his bed. Jumping onto his bed, he grabbed the phone from beneath his pillow case and checked the home screen.   
(26) Missed Messages  
(3) Calls

Iwaizumi groaned, his face wrinkling like a beaten up piñata. Swiping his lock button, he quickly read through the messages and missed call list. 

All twenty-six messages and two calls were from Oikawa, the last call left by Iwaizumi’s mother sometime last night. Sighing, he went into their text thread and didn’t even bother to read the previous messages. 

>what the fuck bro

Iwaizumi typed the message before shoving his phone in his track pants pocket and started shuffling the sheets on his bed to make it look even slightly less disgusting. He hardly had time before he felt an almost immediate buzz against his left thigh. 

>>> YOUR LATE  
> to what  
>>> ITS SUNDAY ITS TUTOR TIME LEARNING TIME PAL   
>>> I DIDN’T PUT ON PANTS FOR NO ONE TO COME TO MY HOUSE ON MY DAY OFF

Iwaizumi froze, crunching up his eyebrows before checking the calendar on his phone. It was Sunday. It was already half past five. And he was very, very late. 

>>> IWA CHAN YOU ANSWER ME RIGHT NOW YOU FUCKING NERD  
>im coming!!! fuck off u cocker spaniel im getting the in car right fucking now  
>>> DARN RIGHT YOU ARE !!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Iwaizumi briefly checked out his outfit in the desk mirror. There were no obvious vomit or beer stains, so there wasn’t really a need to change. Hurriedly grabbing his keys and wallet off the desk, he rushed out of his room and down the stairs with the incessant vibration of Oikawa yelling at him against his leg. 

__

Hastily pulling into the cobblestone driveway, Iwaizumi parked haphazardly and leapt out of the car with binders in hand and his keys in his mouth. Oikawa was still texting him what was at this point presumably death threats, and once again Iwaizumu felt all too terrified of Oikawa’s wrath. 

Hopping up the steps, the mahogany door swung open, and a very grumpy and agitated floppy haired gremlin stood in its breadth. 

Iwaizumi stopped on the step, desperately trying to mask his already accelerated heart rate from the two flights of stairs he weakly jumped up.   
/Fuck, I really need to hit the gym again. 

Oikawa sized him up, eyes hidden behind rectangular glasses as his eyes looked over Iwaizumi’s dirty outfit and sweaty face in mild disgust. 

“Damn, Iwa-chan, you look like shit.”

“Not like you gave me much time to put on my makeup, dumbass,” Iwaizumi retorted with hardly concealed laboured breathing. 

Oikawa’s nose scrunched up, staring into Iwaizumi’s eyes with a look of what could be considered disappointment. 

“I’ll ask for the gossip of whatever depraved thing you did later. But you smell like the locker room after the boy’s football team. Would it kill you to shower more than once a week?” Oikawa replied, before turning around and walking back into the air-conditioned home. 

Iwaizumi shot Oikawa’s back a glare, but took the insult as a sign he was allowed into the house. He quickly followed suit, kicking off his untied converse at the door. 

“So what are we doing today?” Iwaizumi asked as he walked into the kitchen, dropping his books on the marble countertop. 

“Staying as far away from me as possible, preferably,” Oikawa said with a grimace, grabbing the coffee pot from the machine and bring it to the counter. 

“Suits me just fine.”

Oikawa slid him his cup of coffee, visibly keeping his distance from Iwaizumi. Admittedly, he did look a little rough, and he didn’t smell like an axe commercial, but he didn’t wake up in a bathtub filled with cold sweat and vomit either. Iwaizumi glared a little over his cup, but not for long; he was grateful for the caffeine, and in his death threat induced hurry he had almost forgotten he hadn’t had a cup yet. 

“So, um, I didn’t really prepare much more today because of a bit of a mix-up of dates,” Oikawa interrupted Iwaizumi with an indignant snort, but he continued nonetheless. “Anyways, seeing as how we don’t have any terrifying impending due dates and we understand the most elementary basics of chem now, we might as well just do review and study what we know.” 

Oikawa’s face curdled, staring at Iwaizumi with visible disgust. 

“You didn’t even do anything? Why am I paying an idiot who can’t even figure a hair comb? You’re lucky you’re not completely ugly or I don’t think anyone could earnestly like you.”

Iwaizumi sighed. He was used to Oikawa’s formula at this point: superficial layers of swagger and charm that once peeled back was like a chunk of coal made of clever insults and spite. That aspect of him usually remained bottled up, but sometimes when he needed something or was just in a bad mood was unleashed like an angry shitty cat who would rip lines down your leg. 

“Wow, someone’s unnecessarily bitchy today. Need some ice-cream? Maybe tampons?”

Oikawa deadpanned with a bored eye roll. “Can you hear me laughing? I’m laughing so hard.”

“What’s wrong today?” Iwaizumi asked with a sigh, closing his textbook and resting his chin in his hand. 

Oikawa frowned and looked down, pulling his hoodie over his head and pulling the strings around his face like a kid having a temper tantrum. 

“Why do you get to have fun during the weekends and sneak into bars while I have to practise all the time and get shitty tutoring?”

“How’d you know I snuck into a bar?”

“Bokuto made me add him on snapchat after the band gig,” Oikawa replied mildly, raising a mischievous eyebrow over the lens of his glasses. “You’re pretty good with a shot glass. What else can you do with that mouth?”

Iwaizumi scoffed and threw his pencil at Oikawa’s face, the brunette distracted just enough by his own teasing and eyebrow wiggling to not dodge it in time.

“Ow!” Oikawa yelped, catching the pencil as it fell off his face. “Ok, rude and unwarranted. Why do I pay you again?”

“Do we have to go over why you’re a manwhore and is no longer allowed to receive any female or gay male tutoring? Or do you want Mr. Takeda to go over it too?”

Oikawa stuck his bottom lip out, staring at Iwaizumi with injured eyes. “Iwa-chan is very mean! I don’t deserve this kind of treatment just because I’m beautiful and wanted by everyone!”

“And I don’t deserve the brimming sexual harassment case against you, but seeing how this isn’t an official job you’re good for now.” Iwaizumi retorted, flipping open his books again. “Start reviewing from page 265-297, and do the responses on each page. Ask me for help with questions.” Iwaizumi continued, moving his hands to rub his temples. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll be rooting through your medicine cabinet for advil and taking suffering in silence.”  
Oikawa groaned and sat down with his sugar laden coffee, and started working on the many materials he had laid out in front of himself. 

Iwaizumi stood up from the island, and started opening cupboards at random.   
/This hedge fund kitchen is too fucking big and a waste of space. I swear to god, three (3!) of the cupboards I just opened are empty! Iwaizumi started opening more cupboards, growing frustrated with just how many doors they managed to fit in one space. Oikawa looked on in amusement, still not doing his work. 

“Are you gonna stare at my ass this whole time, or are you gonna tell me where the medicine cabinet is?” Iwaizumi asked in frustration, opening a lazy-susan all but filled to the brim with one box of flour and a several packets of Jell-O mix. 

“Yes and yes,” Oikawa replied with a smile. Iwaizumi glared over his shoulder, and Oikawa stuck out his tongue playfully. 

“Top right drawer above the tea box.” Oikawa replied, tapping his pen against his paper while he watched. 

Iwaizumi tried to reach the cabinet, but his hand didn’t quite reach the medicine box at the top. Grunting, he turned to grab a chair, but before he could fully move suddenly Oikawa was right beside him and reaching above his head. Gracefully, he pulled the medicine box from the top layer. He was so close to Iwaizumi Iwaizumi could feel the flex of his shoulder as it gracefully extended upwards and pulled the medicine box down.

/He smells like laundry and grass. How does he always smell like fresh laundry and grass? Like a fucking tide commercial. I hate it. 

“Here ya go, shortie~” Oikawa said cheerfully, before leaning close to Iwaizumi’s ear, shoving the medicine box into his hands. His face was close to Iwaizumi’s, and he leaned slightly away at the sudden breath on his face. 

“You wanna know something, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa asked tauntingly, with a raised eyebrow. He lowered his voice to a whisper. 

“You smell even worse up close~”

Iwaizumi flicked Oikawa’s forehead, and the tall brunette giggled in reply before grabbing the nearly empty Advil bottle from the tray and handing it to Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi took it from him, and Oikawa neatly slipped the tray back on the shelf, his shirt peeking up just a tiny bit when he stretched. Iwaizumi very quickly pulled his eyes upward from the sliver of pale skin just above the waistline of his pants.

Oikawa filed back into his seat, and Iwaizumi hastily dry-swallowed the pill, ignoring the way the tablet stuck in his dry throat and drowned it with some freshly brewed coffee. 

Sitting down and clearing his throat, Iwaizumi flipped a page, looking at the words describing cell reactions but not really reading them. 

“So, where’s your step mom and dad now?” He tried to ask normally, keeping his eyes on the page before him to seem casual, but the question was charged. Despite the odd boundaries of their tutor-pupil relationship, Iwaizumi had never asked Oikawa a personal question. 

Oikawa was silent for a second, scribbling some notes down in his hesitation. 

“Dad’s gone on a business trip in India, and Ayano is down in our place in the Hamptons.” Oikawa replied casually, his eyebrows pulled together as he focused on his textbook questions. 

Iwaizumi grunted in reply to his casual response, wondering if he should probe further. Being a creature of stubbornness and brute force, he naturally decided to. 

“So,” Iwaizumi asked again, “are they often around?” Fully knowing they weren’t ever as displayed by the perennially empty house they studied in. 

“No, not really. Dad’s often on business, and his rotation of wives isn’t either. Besides, I have volleyball anyway.” Oikawa replied, his reply casual but carried a sort of intonation that the conversation about his parents was over. 

Iwaizumi was finding the more he seemed to know about Oikawa, the less he really knew. The brunette seemed to constantly fill the air with words and yet he never actually said anything remotely personal about himself or anything that could possibly give Iwaizumi the slightest idea what he was possibly thinking. He had an aura that was charming and silly, but Iwaizumi was beginning to gather that behind his actions his mind was an entirely different beast that’s inner workings and thoughts were something no one was privy to and Oikawa had made sure of it. 

Iwaizumi carefully brought his eyes up, observing the concentrated face and the teetering round glasses and floppy hair that sat across from him at this very table every Sunday and thought about how little he really knew about hos pupil. 

Would he ever? More importantly, why was Iwaizumi so fascinated by him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow yall sorry this is like what
> 
> 5 months late prolly more  
> school and work is kicking my ass and i was having a hard time with both having any free time and finding the inspiration to write abt my second fav couple
> 
> i hope u guys like it but also dont get used 2 regular updating o boi


End file.
